A disorder consisting in the too frequent evacuation of too fluid fæces, sometimes attended with griping pains.

That is, my faithless idiot readers, quite possibly the best definition of any word that I have ever encountered. Ignoring for the moment the awesomeness of the fancy-lad spelling of poop as ‘fæces’, the OED‘s definition of diarrhœa is a succinct and visceral description of an act that is all too familiar to those of us who spend $116 a month eating Burger King and Panda Express. My only quibble is the “sometimes attended with” qualification. Diarrhœa hurts. It’s like the poop is trying to burn it’s way out.

But, in typical OED fashion, there’s much more to the diarrhœa entry than just the definition. The entry also gives an example of diarrhœa as it was defined in 1866:

The term diarrhœa is used to denote the morbid frequency of intestinal dejections which are, also, liquid or morbidly soft, and often otherwise altered in character.

Ignoring for the moment the egghead spelling of poop as ‘intestinal dejections’, it’s vividly clear that, even in 1866, people were terrified of diarrhœa. And with good reason. Without grape Kool-Aid and a wide variety of flavoured waters to keep them properly hydrated, the average 1866 person simply could not handle the loss of fluids that comes with taking a huge diarrhœa crap. But even though they couldn’t make Kool-Aid, those 1866ers knew how to describe a crap. It might not be as direct and descriptive as the official OED definition of diarrhœa, but describing diarrhœa as “otherwise altered in character” is spot on.

Diarrhœa is crap’s evil twin. Everyone loves a good crap. It really takes a load off, leaving you feeling refreshed and unburdened. No one likes diarrhœa. And instead of the peaceful euphoria that follows a huge dump, diarrhœa leaves only pain and trepidation. Diarrhœa crap is like a bag of Lays potato chips: you can’t eat just one. No wait, that’s not right. Diarrhœa is more like Pringles: once you pop, you can’t stop. There is no post-dump serenity with diarrhœa, only more diarrhœa. And then, when you’ve finally squirted out the last remains of that seafood boli, you have to clean the splatters off your toilet. No one likes cleaning diarrhœa splatters.

In conclusion, the OED rocks, diarrhœa is no fun for anyone and Jenny McCarthy is a talentless skank, albeit a talentless skank who apparently has no problem with taking a dump on the floor. Would that I could be so free with my stool. One of these days, I’m going to follow Miss McCarthy’s shining example and just take a huge dump right on the floor of Aéropostale.